


Beautiful Disaster

by Graceful_Storyteller



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Drama & Romance, Dramedy, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Crack, Mpreg, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-08-14 08:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20189188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graceful_Storyteller/pseuds/Graceful_Storyteller
Summary: A collection of short stories for Windscream week:1-Divine Retribution2-I Won't Say I'm In Love3-This Feline is My Spirit Animal4-Soft5-Shades of You & MeWarnings in chapters.





	1. Divine Retribution

**Author's Note:**

> Things on New Cybertron were going well until the crew of the Lost Light insulted a fertility god on the other side of the universe. Somehow this translates into Windblade being responsible for a very irate and _very pregnant_ Starscream. 
> 
> Warnings for unplanned pregnancy and the notion of abortion.

There were days Windblade was endlessly thankful to Bumblebee for convincing her to go on a date with Starscream. He'd tried so hard to impress her, had pulled out all the stops to make it a magical evening - and still it had blown up in his faceplate. Windblade could remember his expression vividly: the look of utter dejection that had quickly morphed into rage when she started laughing. She'd taken that furious visage between her hands and kissed him until his wings fell into a more relaxed position. He'd kissed her back, all passion and desperation and cunning and _Starscream_. She'd felt her struts melt under the assault and allowed him to press her against the wall as onlookers either jeered or cheered.

Then there were days like today, where she bitterly regretted ever hearing Starscream's designation let alone allowing Bumblebee to talk her into Conjuxing him.

“Starscream.”

“Absolutely typical! The _one time_ I put my trust in someone, where I _literally bear my spark_, and this happens!”

“Starscream.”

“What did those idiots even _do?_ Did they just casually mention that our species didn't bear live young and we tried to wipe out all organic life _in the same conversation?_ Or did one of those love-struck fools start waxing poetical about wishing they had a tiny creation of their own to hold? _Urgh!_”

“Starscream.”

“Even on the other side of the universe Megatron still manages to find a way to torment me! I bet he and the rest of those slagging Autobots are laughing it up right now, so _pleased _about what they've-”

“_STARSCREAM!”_

With a surprised flick of wings, Starscream spun to face her.

Windblade cycled her vents before saying, firmly but calmly, “Stop pacing. It's making you more agitated, and that can't be good for the new spark.”

There was a moment of blissful silence before, “_NOT GOOD FOR THE NEW SPARK!?!”_

The next time Windblade saw Bumblebee she was going to push him out the nearest window. Or maybe she'd let Starscream do it; she was pretty sure that would make him feel better.

Sending a quick prayer to Solus Prime for patience, Windblade attempted a soothing tone. “Yes, the new spark. The spark currently circling your own. The new life currently relying on you for protection, sustenance-”

“I know what the parasite wants from me.”

Windblade felt her wings flare aggressively. “Don't call it that!”

“Why not?” Starscream sneered. “That's what it is. A greedy leech draining me of my fuel and metals.”

“Things you can replace! It's constructing its frame; you can't begrudge-”

“Oh yes I can!”

Windblade ex-vented heavily. This was Starscream – of course he could. “Look, I know this is a lot to take in. Neither of us were expecting your cyberbiology to change overnight. However, it did, and that means we now have two choices. Either we accept it and start planning for the future, or...”

Starscream's optics narrowed suspiciously. “Or what?”

The words left a bitter taste in Windblade's mouth. “Or we don't.”

For a long moment Starscream was silent. He stared at her, the gears of his mind turning fast behind his optics without offering any clue as to what he might be thinking. “You don't have it in you,” he accused – soft and almost contemplative.

“It's your frame Starscream,” Windblade replied helplessly. “I can't force you to do anything you don't want to do. I _refuse _to force you. Even if that means letting you terminate our new spark... I just ask that you make it quick and clean; I don't want it to suffer.”

Starscream's expression contorted into something displeased. He crossed his arms over his cockpit and turned away. Slowly, carefully, Windblade approached. She placed a gentle hand on his arm and, when she was not rebuked, she transformed the simple touch into a hug. Starscream did not say a word as his helm dropped to her shoulder. Windblade smiled. How long had they known each other? How many years had they courted before Conjunxing? And still Starscream didn't know how to ask her for comfort.

“Everything is going to be alright Starscream. We're going to get through this. Together.”

Starscream expelled air in a dismissive snort. He also hugged her back. Windblade chose to take that as a victory.


	2. I Won't Say I'm In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4 million years ago Starscream sold his spark to Unicron to save Megatron's life. Now that he has a chance to earn his freedom he's reluctant to seize it with both hands.  
Inspired by https://auro-bot.tumblr.com/tagged/hercules   
Warnings: past MegaStar, slavery, scheming

“_Find Windblade's weakness and I will grant you the thing you desire most_,” the voice whispered inside Starscream's mind. “_Your freedom_.”

He should have known it was too good to be true; should have seen from the beginning that he'd been set an impossible task. He'd spent weeks in Windblade's company trying to charm her into letting slip that vital piece of information that could be transformed into the key to his shackles, and what did he have to show for it? Nothing. Not a single _blasted _thing.

He'd used every trick in his arsenal to worm his way into her confidence and get her to confide in him. Yet even overcharged she'd never once mentioned anything that could be taken to be a weakness. No injuries, no secrets, no friends or lovers. Only a Titan and Prime as creators, a weapon she didn't actually need to decimate her enemies, a gruff trainer... and Starscream. The closest thing she had to a friend on Cybertron.

The revelation was a double-edged sword. On the one hand it meant Starscream had _influence_. He could direct her where he willed, lead her astray so that she was easy pickings for his master. Or perhaps he could even point her in Unicron's direction? She possessed divine lineage, an immortal spark, perhaps that was enough to defeat the Unmaker? Of late Unicron certainly acted as if she were something dangerous to his master.

Just as a scheme began to form in Starscream's processor he remembered the last time he'd tried his hand at manipulating gods into doing his bidding. He'd carelessly offered Unicron his spark in exchange for Megatron's life believing he was more devious than an immortal being – that he could have both his freedom and Megatron's love. He'd been wrong on both accounts. Megatron had left him for his _real love _and Unicron had forced Starscream to bend the knee before his throne of death. He'd sold himself into eternal slavery for _nothing._ Worse, Unicron had forced him to watch Megatron and his love live out their days in bonded bliss. Both a punishment and a constant, painful reminder of where his arrogance left him. If Starscream again made a move against Unicron he shuddered to think what his master would do to put him back in his place.

Which brought him back to the other edge of the Unmaker's sword. If Starscream did as he'd been commanded and reported back that he had made himself one of Windblade's weaknesses there was no telling what the god would do. He would think nothing of sacrificing his pawn to destroy her and, as much as Starscream detested being a slave, he was not yet ready to give up on life.

He supposed he could always try to hide this new information from Unicron. Perhaps if he claimed he had failed the god would be too distracted to punish him properly? It happened the last time Windblade destroyed the potential ally Starscream had been trying to recruit – why shouldn't lightning strike twice? Yes, that was perhaps the safest option. Tell Unicron Windblade had no weaknesses, no gaps in her armour that could be exploited in order to remove her from the board. His master would be furious but with any luck that anger would be directed elsewhere. All Starscream had to do was distance himself from Windblade so that none of Unicron's other slaves could use his friendship with her for their own personal gain.

“Starscream?”

“What?!” he snapped, his wings flaring aggressively.

Windblade stepped back, her optics wide. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.”

Starscream hissed, more annoyed with himself than her for becoming so distracted. “What do you want Windblade?”

Looking extremely awkward and out of place, Windblade still forced a smile. “I was wondering if you wanted to drag me off to another one of those places I shouldn't be visiting while Chromia is distracted by Ironhide?”

“No,” Starscream snarled as he fought off fond memories of the last time he'd done just that.

“You don't?” Windblade asked, clearly taken aback. “Why not?”

“Because I don't have time to coddle you. I have work to do.”

He tried to storm off but was stopped by Windblade's pathetic, “What did I do wrong?”

There was so much Starscream wanted to say but couldn't, so many different justifications for his actions. He chose to sum it all up with one word. “Everything.”

He tried again to leave but was this time stopped by Windblade's strong grip on his wrist. “Starscream, please,” she said softly. “Are you really that desperate to be alone forever?”

He turned on her, completely ready to verbally eviscerate her, but froze when she brought his captured hand up to her lip-plates. She kissed his knuckles with a gentleness someone with her strength should not possess, her optics infinitely sad.

“Please don't leave. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

Internally, Starscream flailed. He had no idea how to respond to that. Absolutely nothing was going to plan. His spark was spinning wildly in his chest as his processor attempted desperately to claw back control of his vocaliser. He needed to say something _now_; he needed to shut this down before Windblade in her ignorance did something they both came to regret.

“May I kiss you?”

Rendered speechless, Starscream simply stared. Taking his silence as permission, Windblade carefully cupped his faceplate and kissed him as if he was as breakable as glass. The hand still holding his wrist rubbed soothing circles into the joint. Her field radiated calm and tenderness and _love_. It was too much – far, _far _too much. Cleanser gathered in his optics as all his plans came crashing down around him.

“Starscream? Are you alright?”

Windblade pulled back, suddenly concerned. She swiped a thumb delicately around his optics, wiping away the cleanser. She stared at him as if he was the most important thing on Cybertron and he desperately wished his vocaliser hadn't chosen this moment to fail him.

“Starscream, I know you don't like to talk about your past, and I also know that you've been hurt, so I'm going to promise you this right now.” She took his faceplate in both hands and whispered with love shining bright in her optics, “I promise you Starscream that I will never, ever, hurt you.”

“_Well done my slave,”_ Unicron purred gleefully inside Starscream's mind. _“You just earned your freedom.”_

Starscream had never been so devastated to receive praise.


	3. This Feline is My Spirit Animal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream's ghost has its own way of getting Windblade's attention when she's working.

“Now, if you'll turn to my report on the latest batch of refugees you'll see why I'm worried about our lack of proper medical equipment.”

Windblade glances at the spot on her desk where the medic had placed his datapad at the start of their meeting. Starscream smirks back up at her, amusement and challenge dancing in his crimson optics. Windblade resists the urge to glare, or to smack him in his stupid, smug faceplate.

“Is there a problem?” the medic asks, clearly concerned that Windblade has made no move to pick up the datapad from what to _him_ is the sole part of her desk not occupied by a dozen different reports of an equally important nature.

“Yes Windblade; is there a problem?” Starscream practically purrs.

A small smile that is as lethal as a blade through the spark curls her lip-plates. “Of course not,” she says as she _reaches through Starscream's helm_ to grasp the datapad beneath it. The seeker's indignant squawk is worth the shiver that runs down her backstrut from making contact with the spark-ghost.

“So far we've been lucky in what the refugees have brought with them – medically speaking – but at present we don't have any containment protocols. Any contagions brought by the new arrivals will spread rapidly through the population and I'm not sure how much damage control we'll be able to do with our current supplies.”

Windblade flicks through the pages of the report, her smile quickly vanishing. “We're trying to put together a security interview for all new arrivals. I'll add basic medical exam to the list of requirements. I'll also add your recommendations to the list of things we need to start trading for. Was there anything else?”

“No. Thank you for your time.”

With that the medic leaves the confines of her temporary office. Windblade ex-vents heavily and meets Starscream's unimpressed scowl with one of her own. “I'm trying to work Starscream. Can't you wait until after office hours to annoy me?”

He crosses his arms over his cockpit, not moving from his purposeful sprawl across her desk. “What office hours? If your bodyguard didn't forcibly drag you from this cupboard at the end of the solar cycle you wouldn't stop working until you fell into stasis lock.”

Windblade tries not to think about quite how accurate that statement is. “Our civilisation isn't going to rebuild itself. I have important work to do Starscream; I don't have time to be distracted by-”

“A party in your honour? Your adoring citizens? Your living friends?”

“That is part of rebuilding! People need to see their leader, to know that they understand and share their hardships! You know this as well as I do!”

“So what you're saying is that mingling and having fun is acceptable if it serves a political purpose?”

Windblade throws up her arms in despair. “What do you _want_ from me Starscream?!”

“I would have thought that would be obvious,” Starscream snarls as he pushes off her desk and storms towards the exit. “But apparently only the needs of the living are important to you.”

He walks through the door and Windblade slumps in defeat. She stares at the solid surface for far longer than she should before picking up one of the datapads on her desk and returning to her work.

***

That night, when Chromia informs her that she has done enough for one solar cycle, Windblade asks if they can swing by Blur's. Surprised but clearly happy, Chromia doesn't protest their trip to what has become the heart of their budding community. They step inside and after a quick search spot their friends in a corner of the bustling bar. Windblade is the only one to notice Starscream staring at the group with a look of longing that he never would have worn if he thought any of them could see him. Bumblebee spreads his arms in an expressive gesture and his hand passes straight through the edge of Starscream's leg. The expression of spark-deep hurt on Starscream's faceplate resonates within Windblade's own spark; and suddenly she understands exactly what Starscream couldn't bring himself to say earlier.

As soon as he notices their approach Starscream crosses his arms over his cockpit and his expression morphs into a sneer. However (tellingly) he doesn't leave.

Windblade smiles at her friends as they greet her and move to pull over two chairs. “It's good to see you too, but I can't stay. It's been a long solar cycle and I think I need some alone time with my thoughts.”

Her gaze flicks towards Starscream, and for a moment she thinks he will refuse out of spite. He stands, however, and waits quietly while she navigates through Chromia's concern at her sudden change in spark. Once she has made the solemn promise that she is going to recharge she leaves the bar with Starscream close behind.

They walk in silence until Windblade is sure they are alone.

“I wanted to apologise,” she says softly.

“For what?”

“For making you feel you weren't important. For forgetting that I'm the only one who can see you. I've been so focused on rebuilding that I've been neglecting those closest to me; you most of all. I should have known you weren't distracting me just to be annoying. I promise to do better if you promise to be honest about needing attention and realising that I can't give it to you all the time.” She stops and turns to meet Starscream's optics, to let him know that she is serious and sincere in her offer. “Do we have a deal?”

After a long moment of consideration, Starscream nods. “Deal.”


	4. Soft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a new creator is hard. Bumblebee helps put things in perspective for Starscream. 
> 
> Can be sequel to Divine Retribution or stand alone. 
> 
> Warnings: ...Don't be Starscream. Don't throw your child at their other parent.

Starscream had never been one to indulge in the softer emotions. Yet, as he watched Windblade converse with Moonracer, their newly forged sparkling held securely in her arms, that was exactly what he felt. Soft.

The sparkling was such a tiny thing. Its plating was thin, its movements uncoordinated, its language processor undeveloped. It recharged, fuelled, cried, and stared. Occasionally it laughed, usually at Thundercracker when he cooed nonsense and made ridiculous faces at the thing. For the most part it just stared with wide, awed optics at the world around it as it sucked on its diminutive digits. Starscream honestly didn't know why everyone was so fascinated by it.

“You're doing well Starscream.”

The jet suppressed a flinch as he turned a sneer on Bumblebee. “What are you blabbering about?”

“The sparkling,” Bumblebee clarified, taking Starscream's snippy attitude in stride as always. “I had visions of you getting jealous of them stealing all the attention and doing something drastic, but you seem to be keeping those petty impulses under control.”

Starscream cycled his vents in a dismissive snort. “What's there to be jealous of? The useless little cog can't even walk.”

Bumblebee gave him that knowing look that always got right under Starscream's plating. “You're right. They can't walk or talk or fight. They're defenceless. That's why they need you to care for them. To protect them from those who want to harm them.”

“What are you talking about?” Starscream demanded as he rounded on Bumblebee. Windblade glanced in his direction and he made sure to lower the volume as he hissed, “Who wants to harm my sparkling?”

Bumblebee looked so infuriatingly smug that Starscream seriously considered punching him. “All leaders have enemies. Political adversaries, dissatisfied constituents, bots who long to return to the good old days – whatever those were. Some of them won't think twice about trying to get to Windblade through the sparkling. _Your_ enemies would also try the same ploy if they thought you had enough of a spark to give a scrap about anyone other than yourself.”

“If that was supposed to be an insult I'm afraid you missed your mark.”

“Did I?”

Starscream refused to admit that a teeny, tiny, sparkling-sized part of him did in fact feel slighted that the general consensus still seemed to be that he hadn't changed one iota since his Decepticon days. In his humble opinion he'd come a long way since then. He had friends, he had Windblade, he had...a sparkling. A helpless little creature that smiled when he came near. It had never once held his past against him or grown worried when he returned its smile. It never got insulted when he called it stupid (Windblade on the other hand...) or ignored its mindless babbling. It treated him the same no matter how many times he failed to fuel it without making a mess, or didn't realise that was why it was crying, or nearly dropped it, or threw it across the room at Windblade. She'd nearly had his wings for that; a blatant over-reaction when the fragging sparkling had clearly enjoyed its brief moment of being airborne. Definitely a flight-frame in the making.

“The point I'm trying to make,” Bumblebee continued, “is that I know you've found yourself at something of a loose end these last few months. You want to help rebuild Cybertron but your parole conditions mean that you can't get as deep into politics as you need to be to do anything meaningful. You've done your best to support Windblade, and that's great, but I think maybe you've failed to recognise how you can _really _help her. How you can protect her from those who would strike at a vulnerability, and at the same time take a considerable weight off her shoulders. It's not easy juggling the needs of a sparkling and a whole planet. If she knew for sure that someone she can rely on was there defending both of them she would be free to do so much more to bring Cybertron back to life. You could make a real difference Starscream, and all you would need to do was step up and show everyone that if anyone wants to lay a finger on that sparkling they're going to have to go through _you._”

Starscream glowered down at Bumblebee in a way that had, in the past, made lesser bots spring an oil leak. “Well played,” he muttered.

Bumblebee smiled serenely. “Glad I could help.” He patted Starscream's arm. “Now go hug your kid.”

With a final dirty look at the little yellow bot, Starscream stomped over to Windblade. She raised an optical ridge as she gently bounced the sparkling. “You and Bee have a good talk?”

“Yes,” he ground out. He held out his arms and demanded, “Give it here.”

Windblade focused her optics on him distrustfully. “Firstly, don't call them an it. Secondly, why are you suddenly so keen on holding them?”

“It's my sparkling too – why do I need to justify wanting to hold it- them?”

Still suspicious but unwilling to argue, Windblade carefully placed the sparkling into Starscream's arms. The little creature squirmed, released an unhappy stream of nonsense, and stared up at Starscream with too bright optics.

“Are you tired little cog? Is that why you're giving Windblade trouble?” The sparkling beeped and threw an ineffectual punch at Starscream's cockpit. “I'll take that as a yes.” Starscream glanced at Windblade as he repositioned his bundle. “You stay and schmooze these parasites; I'll make sure the sparkling gets a good night's recharge.”

Windblade's suspicion slowly melted into a soft smile. “Thank you Starscream.” She reached up to press a kiss to his cheek. “I love you.”

“Who doesn't?”

With a roll of her optics Windblade kissed him again before pushing him in the direction of the exit. He went willingly, only pausing to ensure the cameras caught his best side and the full extent of the protective flare of his wings. So what if they all assumed this was another attempt to work his way into Windblade's good graces to keep out of prison? He could live with that so long as there was also an understanding that he would destroy anyone who so much as looked at his sparkling the wrong way.

Starscream might not often indulge in the softer emotions, but when he did he was willing to do whatever needed to be done to protect those who elicited them. Right now that included Windblade and the stupid, helpless, trusting, adorable sparkling...

Even if it did scream loud enough to raise the dead when it was tired.


	5. Shades of You & Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a leader changes people.
> 
> Warnings: discussion of drug use and mental illness. Moral greyness.

“You should have Chromia assassinate him.”

Windblade's hand curls into a fist as she watches the mech walk out of her temporary office. When she is certain he is out of hearing range she quietly states, “No, Starscream.”

“Tch.” Starscream sneers down at her seated form, his hip leaning casually against her desk. “You _are _aware that he was lying right? He's no Swindle but during the war he was very good at locating unsavoury items for those willing to pay his prices. Those circuit boosters didn't end up in his possession by accident.”

“I'm aware.”

“And are you _aware_ that you had two of his biggest dealers arrested half a deca-cycle ago? I estimate you have a mega-cycle before he comes to the conclusion that your continued existence is bad for business. You would be best to make an example of him before he makes one of you.”

“_Or_ I could get one of his dealers to flip, record him putting out a hit on me, and then arrest him.”

“His dealers won't flip that easily.”

“They will with the proper motivation.”

“Torture?” Starscream asks with a dry smile.

“I was thinking more along the lines of offering them immunity from prosecution and the necessary tools to take over Rig's operations.”

The smile drops from Starscream's faceplate. “State sponsored narcotics dealing. How-”

“Very _you_ of me.” Windblade pins him with her own smirk before ex-venting and slumping in her seat. “Don't get me wrong; it's a horrible idea and I hate myself for even considering it. But I've been assured that if I don't act soon we're going to be facing an epidemic. I don't have the resources to devote to systematically shutting down Rig's operation. My options are to either take out one cog that can easily be replaced by another ambitious, probably more reckless cog – or I can put my own cog in there and control where and how much poison is peddled to my citizens. Then, when the situation is less dire, I'll know exactly where to apply pressure to cause the whole machine to collapse.”

Starscream considers her silently before releasing what almost passes as a laugh. “You always did do the wrong thing for the right reasons.”

Windblade finds herself smiling. “Unlike you, who usually stumbled into doing the right thing with the most selfish of intentions.”

“Stumbled?” Starscream scoffs. “I'll have you know that I _sauntered_ into doing the right thing.”

“Of course. How foolish of me.” She turns a playful grin on him as she continues, “His Magnificence Lord Starscream, First of His Name, Benevolent and Exalted Ruler of Cybertron, always carried out his noble duties with unquestionable grace and impeccable style.”

Starscream's optics narrow as if he is considering taking offence. Instead his grin takes on an almost lascivious twist as he purrs, “I'm flattered you noticed Windblade.”

As he leans down towards her, still wearing that seductive expression, Windblade finds her optics drawn to his sinful mouth. Her spark pulses with a sudden longing and her optics offline as she tries to force down the mingled pain and desire.

“Windblade?”

With a start Windblade turns towards the unexpected visitor. “Bumblebee.”

“Are you alright?” he asks as he makes his way into her office.

The lie is on the tip of her glossa, but she forces it down in favour of a weary smile. “It's been a long orn.”

“I can imagine,” he says sympathetically. “Trying to regain a sense of stability for all the Cybertronians and Colonists who survived Unicron is not a task I envy you. And now you have all these circuit booster deaths to deal with... Nobody would blame you if you needed to take a personal mega-cycle.”

Windblade's smile wavers. “Thank you Bumblebee, but I don't-”

“I heard you talking to Starscream.”

Her optics instinctively dart towards the mech in question. Starscream crosses his arms and mutters, “This should be good.”

“I know this might seem a little, well, _ironic_ coming from me-”

“More than a little.”

“-but he's _dead_ Windblade. Properly dead. Obliterated by Unicron - no freaky Shockwave inter-dimensional portals in sight – dead. And he's not coming back.”

Windblade lets the words drift through her processor for a moment. She can sense the truth waiting to spew forth like Energon from a fatal wound. A part of her still feels that sharing her knowledge of Starscream's fate will ease her burden.

“Our people need a strong leader, now more than ever,” Starscream whispers into her audial. “Strong leaders don't speak with dead 'Cons.”

Another lie it is then. Or, perhaps, more of a half-truth.

“There were times when I really hated him. Hated how selfish he was, how callous, how suspicious of everyone who genuinely wanted to help him. I couldn't see how Cybertron would ever flourish with somebody like that as its leader, so I did everything in my power to bring him down. He fought me every step of the way and in doing so he made me stronger, smarter, less constrained by my idealism. He taught me so much about what a leader should and shouldn't be. He showed me what courage and sacrifice and a heavy conscious looks like. Talking to him helps me reconcile what I want to do with what needs to be done.”

Bumblebee places his hand over hers and squeezes gently. “He learnt just as much from you as you did from him. He respected and trusted you more than anyone. I know he'd be honoured that you still think about him when making the tough decisions but... I'm sure he also wouldn't want you to make the same mistakes he did. The only one he let in was someone he thought only existed in his own mind. Don't lose yourself talking with the dead.”

She forces a smile for him. “Thanks 'Bee.” Out of the corner of her optic Windblade watches as Starscream disappears back into the void. “I won't.”


End file.
